


Crowley Gets a Splinter

by Daegaer



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Accidents, Angels, Demons, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-01
Updated: 2005-07-01
Packaged: 2019-08-08 21:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16437530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: A reallybigsplinter.





	Crowley Gets a Splinter

It was handy, being immortal. It meant that even if you missed your favourite TV programme and videos hadn't yet been invented, you'd still be around when the missing episode was screened in some sort of ironic "I love the Decades I'd hate to have been Alive in" retrospect. Of course, being immortal had its downsides too. One of which was being able to keep your bloody material body alive long past the point any sensible person would have given up and slunk off sheepishly to their superiors muttering about job-related wear-and-tear. Which explained, at least in part, why Crowley was currently lying on a road with half a tree sticking in him.

He'd have to fill out forms to get a new body, he thought. And he really hated paperwork.

"Mister?" the leader of the gang of teens gathered around him said, "you've got a tree sticking through your, erm--"

"Liver, intestines, skin, flesh, bone - you name it, it has a tree through it," Crowley snapped. "Stop gawking and give me a hand."

"D'you want an ambulance?" another of the kids said, looking like he was about to keel over. "'Cos there's a phone over there on the other side of the park. I could go and call one."

"Why don't you have mobile phones like normal people?" Crowley said.

"Sold 'em," the kids chorused.

"And then we tell our parents they was nicked, and we'll get nicer ones," one boy explained.

"I like you," Crowley grinned, although it felt more like an agonised grimace. "I don't need an ambulance, I just need someone to pull the blessed tree out. I can't get enough leverage on it from this angle."

"Won't you die?" another kid said.

"Bloody hell, I hope not, there's a work-to-rule going on in the office, I'd never get another body," Crowley said. "Er. Never mind that. Just pull out the tree."

They grabbed the tree - which Crowley had to admit wasn't really all that big, if you looked at things objectively, which he was having a hard time doing, given that the not-that-big tree in question was currently being slowly extracted from his internal organs by a gang of idiots - and pulled at it enthusiastically. A short, yet entirely too long a time later, Crowley was lying curled up on his side, panting heavily and rejoicing in his tree-less state.

He clambered to his feet and smiled an altogether more laid-back grin at his young pals.

"Thanks, lads," he said. "In payment, you two no longer have that embarrassing rash, you at the back will stop wetting the bed, and you, with the really bad hair, you'll find the courage to come out to your friends. Oh, and because I'm in a generous mood, you'll also all forget I just told your innermost secrets."

He sauntered off, leaving them confused in his wake. He felt he needed a word with Aziraphale - it really wasn't on, having someone take pot-shots from Heaven at him. He was just lucky the short-sighted bastard had only got the tree.


End file.
